Amalgamation
by NefarioussNess
Summary: Allison wasn't sure whether to shake him awake or let him ride it out. She wanted to do the former, but how would Stiles feel, knowing that she'd seen him like this? He shouldn't be ashamed; Allison knew how brave he was and she hated to see him suffer like this. (Part 3 of Strange Stimulation.)


Allison's eyes were itching with sleep, but she couldn't go to bed. Well, not just yet; she had to go over the list one more time to be sure.

The date had been set since December for their wedding: August sixth. That was a little over two months from now but Allison had been scatter-brained about it and had just begun drafting the invitations. Two months was going to be such short notice for everyone involved, wasn't it?

She and Scott had decided on making the celebration tight-knit and close at home, with only family and close friends attending. She had asked Erica to be her bridesmaid, and was glad when she accepted.

It went without saying who was going to be their best man.

Allison frowned, scratching out one name before writing it back on her list of guests. She hadn't been sure whether or not to invite Lydia Martin to the wedding; Allison didn't want to make it awkward for Stiles and Erica. She wasn't sure what their relationship with the older woman was like now since she took Kyle into her care. Allison had been afraid to ask, but sooner than later she'd have to. It wouldn't be fair otherwise.

Allison yawned loudly, bringing her hand to her mouth in order to stifle it. She looked at the clock on her phone, which informed her that it was past two in the morning. The TV was glowing dimly in front of her, showing off the cheesy infomercials that were usually displayed at this late hour. She placed the guest list into her folder and closed it shut.

As she headed toward her and Scott's room she paused outside Stiles' door, which was slightly ajar. Stiles couldn't stand to have the door completely shut anymore; he said it reminded him of being locked in Peter's closet. Allison heard little whimpers and hollow breathing from inside the room. She placed her hand on the door and slowly pushed it open.

Stiles was asleep, but his sheets were mangled around him. He wasn't thrashing about like he used to, but his eyes were squeezed shut and his fingers gripped the blankets in front of him.

"Stop, stop, stop," Stiles sobbed quietly. He shuddered out a breath before continuing his desperate, pleading mantra.

Allison wasn't sure whether to shake him awake or let him ride it out. She wanted to do the former, but how would Stiles feel, knowing that she'd seen him like this? He shouldn't be ashamed; Allison knew how brave he was and she hated to see him suffer like this.

She looked over at the framed photograph on Stiles' desk. The glass was still cracked from when Stiles dropped it so long ago out of fear.

"Stiles," Allison murmured gently as she touched his shoulder. Stiles stiffened at her touch, freezing as if he'd been caught in headlights.

"Wake up sweetie," Allison said, giving him a little shake. She desperately hoped that she wasn't scaring him.

Stiles' eyes snapped open, so fast and unpredictable that it startled Allison a little. Stiles blinked rapidly, heaving in deep breaths before looking over at Allison. He then curled into himself, the blankets shifting with him as he went into a fetal position. Allison sat down on the edge of the bed, her eyes never leaving his face.

"Please go to sleep," Stiles said wearily. "Go to bed, Ally, I'm fine."

"It's okay," Allison said soothingly. She ran her fingers through his damp hair, and Stiles shook in tiny increments that would be barely noticeable if she hadn't been so close to him. "It's okay," she repeated. "I'm not going to leave you."

"You should," Stiles whispered miserably. "You'll live longer."

"Don't talk like that," said Allison gently. "You know that's not true, right?"

Stiles sighed, his body going lax as she rubbed her hand down his neck. Her thumb glided over his pulse point, which was slowing down from its previous jackrabbit quickness. "I'm not so sure anymore," Stiles admitted quietly.

He sidled over automatically to give Allison some room to lie next to him. She pulled the blankets—they were damp with sweat—over them as she nudged her body closer to his.

"Have you been telling Dr. Morrell about this? She should know to help you better."

"I do," Stiles replied, "but I feel like a broken record at this point. Nightmare this, anxiety that. I had a panic attack the last time I saw her."

Allison frowned; Stiles never told her about that particular part of his previous session. She had to remind herself that moments like that were confidential between the doctor and patient; she and Scott didn't need to know anything that Stiles didn't want them to know. She was so used to knowing every little detail that this little confession threw her off.

It made her want to protect Stiles from the big, bad world even more.

* * *

It had been roughly two and a half months since Kyle had been born, but that special occasion had been marred by a single phone call.

Allison remembered her cell blaring out its obnoxious ring tone at four in the morning. On the other end was Stiles, who'd tearfully asked for her and Scott to come down to the hospital. At first Allison feared that something had happened to the baby and began driving to the hospital within five minutes, trying to avoid any red lights thrown her way. She was confused to find the police cars outside and saw how Scott's expression tightened at the sight of the FBI patrolling the building.

Stiles had been sitting outside of Erica's room, his face blank and eyes unseeing. Agent Anderson was there, and Scott visibly relaxed at the sight of her speaking softly to Stiles before stiffening again at the sight of his father.

Unfortunately Agent McCall had spotted them and made his way over to the couple, his mouth a tight line of frustration. "What are you two doing here?" he asked impatiently.

"Stiles phoned us," Scott simply said. "Is he alright?"

McCall huffed out a breath. "He'll live. But that's not the reason we're here."

"Peter?" Scott asked. Allison held his hand, which was beginning to shake.

"Go home Scott," McCall said brusquely. "There's nothing to worry about."

"Nothing to worry about?" Scott said a little more loudly. "My best friend sounded terrified on the phone and the FBI is here again so I'm going to put two-and-two together and guess that Peter Hale is involved."

"It was a _false alarm_," McCall insisted, but Scott wasn't going to have any of it. Allison clutched his hand as they made their way past the agent and toward where Stiles was sitting.

"Scott!" McCall shouted. He shook his head before walking away, pushing past some of the concerned hospital staff.

Anderson had finished speaking to Stiles by the time they made their way over to him. She gave Scott a small smile before giving Stiles a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. As soon as she was out of earshot Scott crouched in front of him while Allison took the chair next to Stiles.

"Are you okay?" Scott asked worriedly. Stiles stared at him; his face was stained with tear tracks. Scott took Stiles' hands in his and brushed his thumbs over the knuckles in a soothing gesture. "Stiles, what happened?"

"He was here," Stiles whispered. "He was _here_. He said she had my eyes."

Allison's heart began to pound. She felt her chest tighten with anxiety. No, that was impossible; surely one of the staff members or even security would've noticed a stranger wandering the halls at this time at night.

Stiles was sucking in great breaths next to her. Allison reached over and placed her hand on his wrist.

"We're here," she reassured him.

Stiles nodded, though he still looked unsure. "I have to go check on Erica," he said. His legs shook, but he managed to stand on his own. Scott and Allison pulled away from Stiles, and watched him sneak his way back into Erica's room.

"This is insane," Scott muttered. "Seriously, what's Peter's problem anyway? Why can't he just leave Stiles alone?"

"You know why," Allison replied sadly.

Scott ran his fingers through his hair, letting out a little frustrated sigh. "It's like he _planned_ this; it's like he knows this is one of the hardest days of Stiles' life, and then he decides to pull this shit. I hate this!"

"Me too," Allison said. She looked over at Erica's door, thinking of tiny Kyle and how she'll be gone from her parents' lives in a few short hours. That little baby should be able to live in a world safe from a man like Peter Hale. Stiles shouldn't have to fear for his life or for his family's every waking moment.

Allison had an inkling of the actions she would soon have to partake in, and she was afraid. Afraid, but willing to go through with them.


End file.
